


Is Noah a good kisser?

by popfly



Category: Schitt's Creek (TV) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:53:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25961653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popfly/pseuds/popfly
Summary: Dan gets asked in an interview, "Is Noah a good kisser?" But he doesn'treallyknow the answer. Yet.
Relationships: Dan Levy/Noah Reid
Comments: 13
Kudos: 93





	Is Noah a good kisser?

**Author's Note:**

> Basically just going through my drafts and trying to finish each one, even if the idea is silly. Thanks to TINN and Gray for encouragement, validation, betaing (Gray), and for responding to my whiny, "Now I need a title," with, "Just call it the same thing you called your doc." How do I ever do anything without them?

Without a new project announced, it’s inevitable that Dan still gets asked a million _Schitt’s Creek_ questions even though it’s been off the air for a year. But after answering the same or similar questions for so long, Dan is getting a little tired of them. 

Every now and then, though, someone throws him a change-up.

✨

The podcast studio is just a soundproofed room in the host’s home, a round table covered in wires and mics, a teenage intern producer scrolling Instagram with one hand while they record. Dan wore a sweater, because it’s early spring in LA which means the outside is cool but warm enough for people to have turned on their AC, but this room is windowless and stifling.

He can feel his hair wilting on his head. 

“The finale caused a bit of a stir amongst some of your more emotionally invested fans,” the host—a local stand-up who is a friend of a friend and regularly interviews comedy writers—says, and Dan nods even though he knows it won’t translate to audio. “But then the ending was so good I think it smoothed any ruffled feathers.”

“Yeah, I think that in the end we made a finale that was funny, but emotional, which was very much the tone we tried to create throughout the entire series.” The answer is just a rehashed version of things he’s said before, so rote by now that he’s mentally creating a shopping list while he speaks. 

Tracy, the host, shuffles her notes on the table and then says, “You’ve talked a lot about writing a love story for your character while you yourself are single. What was it like getting fake married?”

That’s different enough that Dan sits up a bit straighter in his chair. Sweat is gathering along his spine, and when he blinks he can see the papal getup they’d put Catherine in, the floral arrangements in the town hall set. 

Noah singing Mariah Carey to him. 

He shakes his head and adjusts the headphones over his ears. “It was—“ he breaks off, the warm timbre of Noah’s voice still fading in his head. “A lot,” is the only way he can think to finish that sentence for now.

“Emotional?”

Focusing on everything but his personal feelings is the only way he’s getting through this question, so he goes on about the feeling on set, about the culmination of the David and Patrick relationship, about trying to balance the humor of Alexis’s wedding dress with the obvious ultimate romantic gesture, Patrick’s vows. He completely skips over talking about his own—David’s, about _David’s_ vows—because talking about them means thinking about writing them, alone in his apartment at night, crying into leftover breakfast pastries. 

“Is Noah a good kisser?”

Dan blinks. Tracy has her chin in her hands, smiling innocently like she’s just asked a silly fluff question instead of punching Dan right in the gut. Which is what he feels like. If his memories of Noah singing to him—of _Patrick_ singing to _David_ , dammit—were distracting and almost painful, the memories of kissing Noah are even more so. 

“Oh, uh, he,” Dan stammers. Tracy lifts her head out of her hands, and even Teenage Intern stops her lackadaisical Instascrolling. “Kisses for camera aren’t real kisses,” Dan says, which is true but also not, because he’d put a lot of real into _his_ kisses, but he blusters on for a bit longer and sends up a silent prayer to any available deity that Miss Ennui the producer decides to cut all of this nonsense from the finished product. 

Tracy’s next question is about the documentary, much more familiar territory, and then they talk about the Emmys and a few other things that have Dan feeling on firmer footing. Then Tracy wraps it up, and Teenage Intern flips a switch and gives them a thumbs up. 

“That was great,” Tracy says, laying her headphones on the table. Dan does the same. He tries to fix his hair in the process but it’s too far gone. 

“Thanks for having me. Sorry I kept nodding and forgetting to verbally answer. It’s like I forget that podcasts need audio.” He laughs at himself, and Tracy smiles oddly, cocking her head. 

“That’s okay, we have video too. Remember, you signed the form.”

Oh god. He did. He signed the form. He completely forgot there would be video. But of course now he sees the cameras, small GoPro like lenses installed on two of the walls. Directly facing where he’d been sitting, and blushing his way through talking about kissing Noah. 

On his way out to his car he envisions a _Parks and Rec_ type plot to get rid of the tape, because he knows as soon as it goes live, he’s toast. Maybe he can bribe a Rogers tech person to disable Annie’s wifi on the day the video drops. Or figure out a way to have her phone stolen. And her laptop. Stacey’s too, she obviously can’t be allowed to see it. And Sarah, maybe, because she’s sneakier than she seems and still holds several childhood grudges. 

Dan lays his head gently on his steering wheel and sighs. There’s nothing for it. He just needs to spend the time between now and the interview going live coming up with plausible deniability. He’s a writer, he’s sure he can manage something.

✨

Three weeks later, he still has nothing. He’s managed to mostly forget about it, distracting himself with writing and setting up meetings, attending those meetings and attempting to dazzle his new colleagues with his charm and wit. He mostly succeeds.

It’s after one such meeting, a meeting in which Dan had done so much dazzling that he’s sitting in his car trying to recover from all the dazzling so he has enough energy to drive through the city, that he gets a message saying the podcast—and accompanying video—will be going live at the end of the week. There are snippets for posting as previews, but Dan can’t bring himself to play them. 

Maybe after he’s home, when he can hide on his couch with a giant glass of wine and some snacks. Maybe then he can handle it. 

Thankfully the snippets are innocuous, short and cleverly clipped to create maximum interest in the episode. It gives him a few more days before he has to deal with the fallout. 

The video drops in the afternoon on Friday, and Dan sits at his laptop with YouTube open for an hour, but doesn’t press play. The thumbnail of the video is fine; his hair looks exactly as wilted as it had felt on the day. After staring at the sad flop of it for another few minutes he closes his laptop. Odds are he’ll be getting a text from Annie soon, detailing all the ways in which he’s an embarrassment. It’s standard for any press appearance, as reliable as clockwork. He doesn’t have to watch it to know how bad it is when she’ll give him the rundown anyway.

Instead, he takes Redmond for a long walk, and he leaves his phone on DND the whole time.

As soon as he takes it off DND, the number in the red bubble over his messaging app ticks up, and up, and up. He debates leaving them unread, maybe going for a swim or starting dinner, or doing some work or—

He opens his messages.

Annie’s text thread is a few down; the most recent message is from Emily. Sandwiched between those two nightmares is a new text from Noah.

Dan’s heart starts to thud in his chest.

Maybe it’s unrelated. Maybe Noah just happened to choose this day at this time to say hey, maybe he just wants to catch up. They haven’t talked in a little while, it could be that. Dan taps on Annie’s message before his eyes can focus on any part of Noah’s, and reads.

It’s worse than he thought.

_Hahahahahahaha way to out yourself_  
_Jesus christ dude you really can’t control your face_  
_Don’t hate me_

His hands are actually shaking as he taps back to his messages and then taps on Noah’s. Dread is congealing in his stomach, making him feel slightly nauseous.

_Annie sent me your podcast video._  
_Great interview, thanks for saying nice things about me._  
_Are you back in TO anytime soon, would be great_  
_to get together and catch up!_

That’s it. Dan drops heavily onto the couch, startling Redmond, who is already sacked out at the end of it.

All of that worry for nothing. Dan’s not sure if it’s relief or disappointment that’s making his limbs feel like lead.

He actually is going home soon, to start preliminary meetings about shooting a new show in Toronto. The plan had been to stay at his parents’ for a week, so they’d have the weekend to hang out before he flies back to LA. Dan is sure they won’t mind if he takes a few hours to catch up with Noah.

Dan taps his thumb on the side of his phone case, and then writes back.

 _Thanks dude! Appreciate you watching._  
_I’ll be back for a week at the end of the month,_  
_working but can definitely make some time to_  
_hang out!_

Shoving to his feet, Dan goes to pocket his phone. Noah is notoriously terrible at responding to messages, and Dan should shower off the sweat from he and Red’s walk and then start something for dinner. But before he can even lock the screen, a message pops up.

_Nice. Give me a date, let’s make it happen._

A date. Dan can do that.

But he needs a shower first.

✨

As soon as the door to Noah’s house swings open, Dan knows he’s miscalculated. He thought all of his nerves would dissipate as soon as he saw Noah, that his anxiety would all be anticipatory. And he was a mess most of the day, scrutinizing every item of clothing he packed before deeming them all unfit, even though all he and Noah are going to do is sit around Noah’s house and talk. Noah had promised dinner and cocktails, though, because Dan doesn’t do “hanging out” without the promise of food and Noah knows that.

In the end, he pulled on the Prada pants he’d worn already and a sweater, and he only spent five extra minutes on his hair before he forced himself to leave.

The whole way to Noah’s, Dan had rehearsed conversations in his head. It’s not like Noah is hard to talk to, but Dan wants to be prepared so his own mouth doesn’t run everything off the rails.

Then Noah opens the door, barefoot in a pair of jeans Dan’s never seen that barely contain the thickness of his thighs and a navy blue thermal, and Dan forgets every line he’d run with himself in the car.

“Hey,” Noah says, voice warm and pleased, and reaches out with one arm to draw Dan over the threshold and into a hug. Noah lets the door close and gets his other arm around Dan’s shoulder. There’s a brief brush against the side of Dan’s neck that could be Noah’s mouth, but it’s so there-and-gone that Dan’s not convinced he didn’t imagine it. “Thanks for coming over,” Noah says as he releases Dan, and Dan nods until his brain is done with its litany of god-he-smells-good-and-looks-good-I-missed-him-so-much.

“Thanks for having me,” he says, and there. That’s normal and not mortifying. Noah smiles, and the fondness on his face is almost too much to handle.

“Want a drink?”

“Yes, please.”

Dan follows Noah into the dining room, where a bottle of wine is already uncorked. From there Dan can smell something garlicky and delicious, but he doesn’t get a chance to ask what it is because Noah starts talking as he pours wine. “It’s really good to see you,” he tells the dark red liquid that’s sloshing into one of the glasses. He flicks a glance up through his lashes, quick but plenty long enough for the sincerity to pierce right through Dan’s chest.

“You too,” Dan says, and something in his voice makes Noah glance up again. Dan tries to keep his face casual, but he can feel his mouth curling without his consent.

Noah watches it for a beat and then hands Dan his wine before pouring his own. “How did your meetings go this week?”

“Good. Really good. I think we’ll be able to start scouting locations and stuff soon. Might do some casting up here, too, depending on the timeline.”

Noah touches Dan’s elbow, cupping around it with his free hand, to get him to follow Noah out into the living room. Dan goes, and they settle on the couch with enough space between them that Noah can pull up a knee and turn towards Dan, full-body listening like he always does. It’s some kind of special Noah Reid magic, how he can engage with a person with every part of himself, and make that person feel like there is no one or nothing more important than whatever they’re saying. Dan feels like that now, with all of Noah’s attention on him, even though all he’s doing is shop talk.

“That’s great, Dan,” Noah says, and he sounds so happy for Dan’s work to be going well. Then something shifts in his face, his eyes widening slightly as he asks, “Did you do any press while you were here?”

“No,” Dan says. There’s a moment then, when something clicks, the faux-innocence of Noah’s face and the question, and Dan’s skin goes cold. He takes a gulp of wine.

“No? So no interviews, no … podcasts?”

And there goes the corner of Noah’s mouth, quirking up before he can control it. Dan tries to pretend like that’s a totally normal question that his friend just asked him in a totally normal voice, and shakes his head in a perfectly calm and not at all frantic fashion. “Nope, no, nothing. No nothing, no. Nope.”

“Speaking of podcasts,” Noah says, and Dan goes rigidly still. His fingers are alarmingly numb around the stem of his wineglass. “The last one you did. I don’t think it was fair of that host to ask you if I’m a good kisser.”

Dan’s mind has gone completely blank. “Oh?”

“I mean, you don’t really know the answer.”

“No,” Dan says, reaching over to set his wine glass down on the end table. His palms have gotten so clammy he worries he’ll drop it otherwise. “That’s what I tried to tell her, because screen kisses—”

“Right. ‘Kisses for camera aren’t real kisses.’ So. You have no idea.”

Dan looks over. Noah seems closer than he had before Dan turned to secure his wine. He also doesn’t have his wine glass in his hands anymore. He also looks—

Intent. He’s watching Dan like he’s waiting for the answer to a question, but he didn’t ask a question. But the way he’s leaning forward is a question, one Dan can’t believe he’s asking, one that only has one answer.

“I don’t,” Dan confirms, and shifts so he’s facing Noah, bracing a hand next to his hip so he can lean in, too.

“You have _no_ idea,” Noah murmurs, as he closes the last bit of distance between them. Dan licks his lips and lets his eyes slip closed, and the first touch of Noah’s mouth is only an inkling of an idea, a glancing impression of slightly-chapped lips and warm breath. Then Noah puts a hand on Dan’s jaw, tilts Dan’s head with his thumb, and presses back in.

And then Dan is getting _kissed_. His heart is pounding in his chest, in the base of his throat, in his ears. Soft, short hair sifts between his fingers before he realizes he’s put his hand in Noah’s hair. Noah’s mouth is slow, moving over Dan’s like he’s memorizing it, but there’s an eagerness in it that feels urgent.

When he’s mapped Dan’s lips thoroughly with his own, he tilts Dan’s chin in the other direction, brushing the tip of his nose against Dan’s as he tilts to do it all again from the other side. Dan breathes in harshly through his nose, not wanting to break up Noah’s thorough exploration, because it feels so good Dan’s willing to give up a little oxygen for more of it.

Noah hums against Dan’s mouth, making Dan’s lips tingle, drop open around a gasp. Then Noah’s tongue touches the tender inner edge of Dan’s lower lip, making sudden heat spread through Dan’s belly. Dan surges forward, glad they already set their wine aside, tightening his hand on the back of Noah’s head.

The kiss goes on so long Dan feels dizzy, mouth bruised and sweat pricking up at the base of his spine. Noah makes quiet noises in the back of his throat as he eases away slightly, brushing his mouth lightly over Dan’s.

“There,” Noah says, and punctuates his statement with a nip to Dan’s lower lip. Dan opens his eyes, blinking until he can focus. Noah stays close, but Dan can see the redness around his mouth from Dan’s stubble, the puffy slickness of his lips. His eyes are huge and dark. “Now you have an idea.”

“Eureka,” Dan says, still dazed. Noah laughs, a quiet breathy chuckle, and Dan feels new warmth in his cheeks. “I guess I’ll know what to say next time I’m asked.”

“Dan,” Noah says, in a tender imitation of an interview. He slides his hand back into Dan’s hair. “Is Noah a good kisser?”

“Passable,” Dan says, and Noah’s laugh this time is sharper, surprised.

“I have some work to do,” he says, all teasing and promise, as he leans back in. Just as Dan is letting his eyes flutter closed again, the oven timer goes off. “Shit,” Noah says, pulling away. “Don’t move.”

He goes off to do something in the kitchen, something that wafts more of that delicious garlic smell through the house. Dan does move, only to grab his wine and wet his parched mouth with a sip. Nerves are creeping back in, but the eagerness of Noah’s stride as he comes back into the living room eases them slightly.

“We have a few more minutes while that cools,” Noah says, and sits back down practically in Dan’s lap.

“And then?” Dan asks, his mouth going off again without his permission. Noah wrinkles his nose, as if he doesn’t understand the question, and then he nods slowly, getting the whole meaning of it.

“If you’re going to be back in Toronto working for a while, then maybe we can see each other?”

There’s just enough hope in Noah’s voice, in the tilt of his head and the slant of his mouth, to quell any other questions Dan might have. “I can see the value in continued education,” he says, and twists his mouth to the side to disguise a grin. 

Noah lets his own grin spread unchecked across his face. “Speaking of, we still have a couple of minutes.” He leans back in, and Dan meets him halfway.


End file.
